


Convenience

by Syrum



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cuddling, Cute, Fluff, Illness, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, saving you from yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3302246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Circumstance brought them together.  Convenience kept them that way.</p><p>Cullen is suffering from lyrium withdrawal, and Dorian is the only one around to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Convenience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NyteTyger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyteTyger/gifts).



> I posted a thing on my Tumblr asking for prompts, and the only one I got was from NyteTyger, so here you are m'dear, your very own Cullrian fic just for you :)

It began as a friendship of convenience, really. Cullen, being the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, rarely had any reason to leave Skyhold, and was outright barred on more than one occasion, though when questioned he refused to go into the reason as to why. He was tired, frustrated, and needed something to take his mind of the constant stream of demands and requests that were delivered throughout the day and night to his pokey little office atop the battlements.

Dorian had gone from being the go-to mage on the Inquisitor’s excursions to barely leaving the castle at all, and while the icy cold winter meant he didn’t mind overly – the heat of the roaring fire was much preferable to being pelted with ice and snow, after all – he was growing bored. There were only so many books one could read before growing tired of the quiet stuffiness of the library. He could not blame the Inquisitor for leaving him behind; Solas’ mind held far more relevant knowledge than Dorian’s own, much as he was loathe to admit it, and it would have been foolhardy to pick the Tevinter mage over the Elvhen one out of any sense of loyalty when the future of Thedas hung in the balance.

Even the tavern held little appeal to Dorian at present; Bull was rarely seen away from the Inquisitor’s side, and while neither had outright said anything, anyone with eyes could see the overt fondness they held for each other, and it was only a matter of time before their relationship came to light. Without the hulking Qunari there to offer conversation, and with many of the other members of the Inquisition understandably rather wary of the mage, it left him with scant few people to converse with, and speaking with oneself in public was rather frowned upon he found.

The afternoon chess matches with the Commander became a thing of habit, and went from a dalliance to a necessity, as both men craved the attention of another, if just for a short while. Often, Cullen would be called away before they could finish, and rarely was he able to return, Dorian becoming more and more frustrated with each passing day. He wasn’t certain why it bothered him so much, assuming it was simply his perfectionist nature hating to leave things unfinished, but before he knew it he found himself making the trek up to the Commander’s office, chessboard in hand. It was growing colder by the day, the season shaping up to be one of the iciest winters any could remember, and he shivered as he half-jogged up the steps to the battlements and knocked briefly upon the wooden door, entering without waiting for a response from within.

“You need fret no more, my dear Commander, your ever-thoughtful mage has arrived to-” He stopped short, just inside the door, latch clicking shut behind him as his eyes fell upon Cullen’s hunched form. “Maker’s ass, you look like shit, are you quite alright?”

“So nice of you to notice.” The blonde grimaced, though there was no malice there, only pain. 

“I am nothing if not observant.” Dorian found himself hurrying over to the pale Ferelden, the chess board forgotten upon the desk as he crouched down to place a ring-clad hand upon the man’s forehead, pulling it away quickly with a hiss. “You’re burning up, why are you even out of bed?”

“I have too much work to do, and nowhere near enough time to do it all, I can’t-” With a pained grunt, he doubled over, almost toppling from his chair if not for the strong arms that darted out to keep him upright.

“And none of it will get done at all if you go and die on us, not to mention I would miss you _dreadfully_. Leave the work to the healthy, for a while, and I will assist once you are right once more.”

“It should pass soon, it usually does.” Cullen was gritting his teeth, face twisted in ways Dorian had never wished to see, the agony visible there sending a spike of something dreadful straight through his heart.

“This happens often?” If the mage was surprised, he did not show it, glancing away until the blonde’s expression relaxed into one of exhausted misery.

“It’s particularly bad today.” The sigh that slipped past the warrior’s lips was beyond weary, and as Dorian stood to move to the side, not wishing to crowd the man and yet unwilling to move too far from him, Cullen allowed himself to lean into the welcome warmth of a clothed chest and stomach to his right.

“How long does it normally last?” One olive hand lifted just high enough to rest upon the blonde curls atop Cullen’s head, fingers gently scratching at his scalp in what little comfort the mage could offer.

“An hour, at most.”

“And how long today?”

“Since I woke at dawn.” He paused for a moment, leaning bodily against the strong chest to his side. “What time is it?” Cullen finally asked, hand without his consent wrapping itself in the fabric of the mage’s robes and holding on.

“Just past noon.”

“Oh.” The ex-Templar’s voice was near inaudible, shoulders slumped as pained tremors shocked his exhausted body.

“I take it these are the side effects of lyrium withdrawal?” Cullen froze at that, going rigid, before slowly looking up at the mage, expression unreadable.

“You knew about it?” The Commander had a mask in place, albeit a poorly constructed one, though Dorian was unsure as to whether the man was fighting back anger, fear, embarrassment or something entirely different,

“I’m a mage, of course I did. I can practically _taste_ the stuff on you it’s so strong. Or, well, I could; it’s less prominent now, more of a gentle aroma of magic.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about you _tasting_ my lyrium.” The huffed response was meant in jest, though it did carry a serious undertone that Dorian wasn’t entirely certain he fully understood.

“Well, what’s say we continue this line of conversation when you’re less feverish, hm?” Dorian hoisted the rather heavy man to his feet, armour adding more than a few pounds, looping one of Cullen’s limp arms over his shoulders. The only protest that the Commander made was a small, pained whimper, and the shard in Dorian’s heart made itself known once more. Really, this Dog Lord was making him soft.

“Where are we going?” Cullen looked up as he felt a blast of cold air, allowing the mage to lead him forwards and out of the stuffy warmth of his office. He could feel Dorian shiver as falling snow began to settle atop them both, though for the feverish ex-Templar the sudden onset of cold was more than a little welcome.

“I have no intention of hoisting you up that blasted ladder to your own bed chambers, so I’m taking you to mine.” The mage grumbled, kept at least marginally warm by the enormous amount of heat Cullen seemed to be producing. Really, it was a wonder that the snow they trudged through wasn’t melting as a result.

“Taking advantage of my weakened state to get me into your bed?” Came the muttered reply, though Cullen’s tone remained teasing.

“Hardly.” Dorian snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “Trust me when I say my intentions are entirely pure at this point in time.”

“But not _all_ the time?”

“We are _not_ having this conversation now, Commander.” The mage replied pointedly, stumbling slightly and having to hoist the quickly flagging blonde higher on his shoulders, pulling him closer into his side. A pair of soldiers stood staring at them some distance away, watching their every move with critical eyes.

“We have an audience.”

“How nice of you to notice.” Dorian muttered, before raising his voice so the onlookers would be able to hear. “Honestly, Commander, if you will insist on walking the battlements without a cloak, it’s no _wonder_ you’ve caught cold.”

“Do you think they’re convinced?” The men had turned away after one last critical glance, the Commander’s dull pallor and sweat-soaked hair seemingly enough to stop their approach, for now at least.

“Probably not entirely, but a few well-timed sneezes tomorrow should put their minds at rest and stop any awkward questions.”

“Thank you.” They made the rest of the trip in silence, reaching Dorian’s rooms only minutes later and with thankfully no more concerned interlopers making the trip any harder than it already was. Cullen did not complain as he was stripped down to his underclothes, before being bodily manoeuvred into the overly large and very plush bed that the made had somehow - and unsurprisingly - managed to acquire.

“Sleep.”

“I can’t, it won’t let me.” A whimpered cry followed, and the Commander clutched at the bed covers, sweat beading upon his forehead.

“Then allow me to help you.” Dorian leant over the pale and sunken form, cupping the Commander’s cheek, the faintest sparks of magic at his fingertips, asking permission. Cullen simply nodded, reaching up to place his own hand over the mage’s.

“Don’t leave me?” It sounded small and child-like, the blonde staring up at him with such sorrowful eyes, and for the third time that afternoon Dorian felt his heart clench.

“I won’t, I’ll still be here when you wake.” He replied, pushing forward ever so gently with his magic, just enough force to convince the man that sleep was necessary, brown eyes drooping shut and breath evening out as Cullen drifted off into an unnatural, dreamless sleep. “Festis bei umo canavarum.” The mage muttered quietly to himself with a resigned sigh, as he pulled away from the sleeping form in his bed, finding one of the books he had ‘borrowed’ from the library and settling down to read.

When Cullen finally awoke, thoroughly rested and surprisingly pain-free, he found himself in a strange bed within an even stranger room and one glance out of the window indicated it was as black as pitch outside. A single candle flickered across the room, almost at the end of its life, casting a low light upon the still form of the mage curled in a high-backed armchair, book resting forgotten upon his chest, which rose and fell in a gentle pattern in time with with soft snores.

Ah, Dorian. The previous day’s events filtered back, the immense pain, and the constant screaming of his blood for the drug that it craved so intensely. He had been mere moments from pulling out the lone vial of the stuff he kept in his desk drawer and injecting it when the mage had arrived, and if not for Dorian the cycle would have started all over again.

Slipping from beneath the thick covers upon the bed, Cullen shivered at the cold night air, moving near-silently over to the sleeping mage. Taking the book and placing it carefully upon the table, he began to unbuckle the many - too many - fastenings upon Dorian’s robes, managing all bar two before the man stirred. “Trying to undress me in my sleep? You only needed to ask, Commander.” Sleep-laden eyes blinked owlishly in the candlelight and Cullen simply smiled, finishing off the task and slipping the fabric from the mage’s shoulders before scooping him up and carrying him to the bed, Dorian offering no resistance.

“You’d rather I left you to sleep in them? Now hush, it’s late. Go back to sleep.” Placing the lighter man upon the soft mattress, the blonde contemplated for a moment, before climbing in beside the mage and wrapping him in a firm embrace, offering no explanation for his actions and Dorian demanding none.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr; syrum.tumblr.com
> 
> I always want prompts!


End file.
